


Sickness of the Heart

by quicksiluers



Category: Aladdin (2019)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Canon, Sick Character, Sickfic, and then you actually love it, it's all fun and games when you joke about a ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-18 21:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20198437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksiluers/pseuds/quicksiluers
Summary: There are other tales to tell before the story of the lamp and Aladdin.Within the palace, Jafar was Prince Hamed's most trust courier. When the palace is saturated with the neighboring kingdom's delegates, it's up to him to keep up with the prince's work. An illness befalls him and Hakim, one of his only friends within the palace walls, volunteers to sit by his side.





	Sickness of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I told you I would write it and...here it is. This doesn't take place in the same sort of timeline as my previous story "Second Will Never Be Enough" but there are things that can tie in. Jafar and Hakim are younger here. I would say that Hakim is in his early/mid-twenties and Jafar in his early twenties. 
> 
> Where it does tie into my other stories sort of timeline, to me, is that Jafar hasn't had to suffer through his 5 years in Shirabad yet. So if he seems a bit...not as mean, that's why. Anyway, hope you enjoy this fun little thing~~

Life within the walls of Agrabah’s palace was, at times, hectic. The arrival of visitors created a stir that would ripple from the royal family to the servants. Everything needed to be spotless, the food to the right temperature, and the entertainment lively. Anything to showcase their kingdom in the best possible way. 

The past week had been no exception. Delegates from surrounding kingdoms had come for meetings that Prince Hamed arranged every six months. To the sultan, it seemed like a wasted effort. But Hamed enjoyed the company of the delegates, discussing how their kingdoms were faring and when to expect possible visits from the royals of that land. 

While Hamed attended the meetings with the delegates, it left Jafar with an overwhelming amount of duties. Helping the prince prepare the topics that would be discussed, sitting in the other meetings the prince was missing, and reading and responding to the messages that came on the prince’s desk while he was absent.

On top of the extra work, he had his own duties. Planning his next trip with Agrabah’s own delegates to one of the many kingdoms they were friendly with. Reading over the mountains of reports relating to anything from within the kingdom. From the cities seaport to the dunes that signaled the edge of the kingdom, there were issues to deal with on a daily basis. He had also been training with Hakim, who seemed to like to torture him by training outside during the hottest points in the day. 

It was exhausting. Each night, Jafar would stumble into his room, feed Iago, and be asleep before his body hit his bed. Last night had been no exception. 

Breathing was painful. Opening his eyes felt like it took most of the strength he had left in his body. His throat felt like sand had been poured down it, rough and dry. The pounding behind his eyes, which he continued to attempt to open, was unbearable. 

There was no time to lay around. Today was another busy day, one of the last days that the delegates would be here. 

Pushing his hands firmly into the mattress, pain shot through his head as he sat up. A low groan rose from his chest as he placed his head in his hands. It felt as if the room was spinning, the shelves of books and other items blurring together. His fingers found his temples, trying to subdue the raging headache. He picked up on noise from across the room, he assumed it was Iago’s cries for breakfast, but it sounded distant and muffled. 

His vision was dotted with black spots. Rubbing his eyes did him no favors, causing them to burn and water around the edges. Attempting a deep breath resulted in his body being racked with a coughing fit. The taste of iron lingered in his mouth.

The signs were all there, but Jafar needed to ignore them. There was too much to do today to allow this sickness, whatever it was, to prevent him from working. But each time he moved, it felt like his body was screaming at him. Demanding him to stop. 

He sat on the edge of his bed, hands cupped in his lap, lost in his fevered thoughts. 

Being sick made him useless. He couldn’t afford for this to happen during such an important time. 

* * *

“This is unlike him.”

The palace’s throne room was extraordinary. The walls that lined the room were carved with precision, the details crafted with extreme care. The floor and stairs leading to the heart of the building were made of beautiful dark wood. Light streamed in from the carefully crafted spaces from the walls, providing a warmth that was needed in the massive space.

Hamed frowned, taking another glance at the side entrance to the hall. It was unlike Jafar to be late to their morning conversations. In fact, it was unheard of. The young man was very timely, arriving five or so minutes more before the agreed-upon time. It was now a quarter past that time and there had been no trace of him. 

“Perhaps he overslept?” Nu’man questioned, his gold armor plate flashing from the sun that peaked through the walls. He was dressed in the white and gold armor that signified his position as the leader of Agrabah’s palace guards. His calm tone and demeanor brought some assurance to Hamed. 

It could be a simple mistake. “Perhaps...but he hasn’t even sent Iago to provide us with a message.” Hamed mused, his eyes falling on the young man who stood with them. 

Hakim was almost the spitting image of his father. His beard was cleaner, his face not as sharp, but he shared the same striking dark eyes as the older man. The frown was the same, which pulled down his lips as his gaze bounced back between the two other men. He wore the palace guards armor as well, though his head was bare of the normal helmet that was part of the uniform. 

When he was older, Hamed imagined it would be hard to tell the two apart. 

An idea popped into his mind. “Hakim...could you perhaps go check in with Jafar? If he did oversleep, he may need someone to remind him not to let that happen.”

The young man bowed to his waist. “Of course my prince.”

Turning on his heel, Hamed watched Hakim’s back until he disappeared around the corner. He couldn’t help but chuckle. “That boy is exactly like you Nu’man, I swear…”

The guard hummed, a rare smile on his lips. “He still has much to learn...but he is coming into his own.” Sadness crossed his eyes briefly. “He has the same fire as his mother.”

* * *

Stepping two at a time up another set of stairs, Hakim couldn’t help but shake his head. What on earth of Jafar doing? Arriving late would be one thing, not everyone can be perfect. But keeping the prince waiting as he had? It was unlike the younger man. 

His brief concern was overwhelmed with annoyance that flashed through him. Following a request from the prince was something he would never deny. It was his life’s duty to follow the sultan and his family, his father had taught him that. But this made him feel more like an errand boy. The prince didn’t mean it as an insult, of course, the man was very kind. But it still gnawed at him. 

Knowing the halls of the palace like the back of his hand, he knew the quickest way to get to Jafar’s room. It was one of the few rooms set in the tower by the sea. He thought it was an odd spot, secluded from the main layout of the palace. Jafar seemed to enjoy the space. The dueling views of the ocean and city seemingly won him over from what he gathered. 

Turning down another hall, his gaze caught the door he was looking for. Quickening his pace, his feet stopped him a few steps away. 

Nothing looked out of place with the door. He couldn’t hear anything beyond it, not even Iago. It struck him as odd. The parrot was very talkative in the morning from what he understood. 

Hakim knocked his fist against the wood a few times. “Jafar?”

Silence responded back. He frowned, leaning closer to the door. If he wasn’t in his room, where else would he be? 

His fist was inches away from knocking again when he heard what sounded like a bump on the other side. He stepped closer to the door, straining his hearing. A soft wheezing sound caught his attention. 

On the other side of the door, Jafar’s forehead leaned against the wooden barrier. It felt like his skin was on fire, his eyes burning. His legs were almost shaking from walking the few feet to the door. But he knew someone was just beyond it. The knocking had been muffled, but he was positive it was Hakim. He would save him from this hell. 

Grasping the door handle, fighting back his drooping eyelids, he pulled it open. 

Hakim took a step back, surprised for a moment before he felt his eyes widen. Jafar was a mess. His chest was bare, the pants he wore rolled up to different points on his legs. Cheeks flushed beyond a simple blush. The look in his eyes unsettled Hakim. Jafar tended to have a small spark in his piercing brown gaze. Yet here, he was met with nothing but dazed and glassy stare. The shadows that lingered along his cheekbones made his stomach turn. 

“Jafar?” Hakim asked cautiously, taking a step toward the younger man. 

The dull brown eyes looking back at him blinked slowly. As if Jafar was trying to comprehend the words that were spoken to him. His brows furrowed after a moment. “Hakim…?”

The sluggish speaking caught him off guard for a moment before Jafar fell forward. Hakim cried out, catching him before he fell face-first into the ground. Cradling his body against him, Hakim could feel the heat coming off his skin. His skin was drenched with sweat and being so close, he could hear the wheezing from the other man’s chest as he tried to breath. 

His hand shook Jafar’s shoulder, worry layered in his voice. “Jafar?” 

There was no response from the other body, his chest rising and falling slowly. 

Hakim looked around quickly before gathering him up in his arms. Walking into the room, his eyes caught Iago’s red feathers on the alcove opposite of the bed. The macaw had been silent during the brief episode. 

Laying him down carefully, Hakim pressed his hand to Jafar’s forehead. It felt like it was on fire. He cursed to himself. 

The prince needed to know. They would need to get the palace’s physician or someone to help fight back whatever illness had fallen upon a Jafar. 

Squawking from the alcove caught Hakim’s attention. The red macaw was eyeing him up, he assumed irritated from not being fed yet. 

“Iago.” Hakim rushed over to the bird, holding up his arm. The parrot stared at him for a moment before flying up and landing on his forearm as they had practiced sometime ago. “If Jafar wakes up while I’m gone, come and alert me. Do you understand?”

How the bird understood him, Hakim still couldn’t wrap his mind around. Jafar had explained it to him one day after training, lamenting how long it had taken him to get the bird to follow him, but it still went over his head. 

“Master Awake!” The bird cried, shifting down his arm and shaking out his wings. “Find Hakim!”

“Good bird.” He nodded, moving his arm toward the bed. Iago’s claws dug out from his arm brace and he perched himself on the bed frame. Almost like a guardian. 

Hakim moved to walk out the door and stopped briefly, taking in Jafar’s state. It troubled him to see the other man like this. 

“I’ll be back.”

Rushing down the hall, Hakim fought to keep the stern expression on his face. A small fear gnawed at him. It always did when sickness was involved. His mind would linger back to the grueling days of his childhood, living outside the palace. Sitting by his mother’s side while his father was gone, watching her waste away because illness had befallen her. He had wanted to reach out and take her hand in his, tell her she would be better soon. But his father had forbidden it. 

His nails cut into the palm of his hands now as they did then, fists clenched as he dashed down the staircase. That wouldn’t happen now, not with the palace’s doctor, but the notion haunted him. 

Turning the corner into the throne room, his father and the prince’s backs were to him. He stopped, taking a deep breath to compose himself, and walked toward them calmly. 

The prince was the first to notice him. “Hakim.” His eyes lingered behind him, brows furrowed. “Where is Jafar? Is everything alright?” His father turned to him, an eyebrow slightly raised in question. 

“My prince...I fear Jafar has fallen ill,” he squared his shoulders, trying to fight the growing worry he felt. Hakim pressed on, “When I arrived, he...fainted. I could feel the fever burning through him.”

Prince Hamed became extremely alert, his eyes widening slightly. His gaze found his father’s and Hakim couldn’t see the look they shared. “Nu’man, please go get the physician.” The head guard nodded, bowing before leaving the group. The prince’s eyes found Hakim’s. “Come with me, Hakim.”

Together, they quickly made their way back to the room. Hakim explained what he had found when he arrived at the room and the prince’s frown deepened with every word. A worried expression lingered on his face. 

Entering the room, a small sigh escaped him. Jafar was right where he had left him, Iago still sitting alert on the bed frame above him. The flush on his face had grown, his expression pinched. The wheezing was bringing him some form of discomfort.

Prince Hamed sat on the edge of the bed, his hand laying on Jafar’s forehead. The crease between his brows grew. “He’s burning up.” He mumbled under his breath, his hand moving down his face to cup his cheek. “He was awake when you arrived, Hakim?”

Hakim blinked, brought out of his thoughts. He felt like he was intruding on a moment between them. Like a father worried for his son. His brief embarrassment made him feel foolish. “Briefly, my prince. He opened the door and then a few moments later, he passed out.”

Nodding, the prince pulled his hand away from Jafar's face and sat back, his gaze falling on him. A sigh left him, a sad smile tugging on his lips. It worried Hakim, seeing his prince like this. “When the physician arrives...we’ll figure out what we can do.”

* * *

It wasn’t that Hakim didn’t like the palace physician. The man was extremely polite, a few years older than him, and was always willing to assist with even the smallest of bumps and bruises. Whenever they greeted each other in the halls, he was always met with a smile. Hakim never returned the smile, he rarely did, but he would nod and move along with his day.

The idea of the physician bothered him. It made no sense, Hakim knew this. He was there to help, provide remedies to help move a sickness along or clean a wound that was too deep for a bandage alone. But something about his presence made his skin crawl. He figured he would never understand this aversion he had. 

He, along with his father, stood back and watched the physician work over Jafar. The prince stood at his side, his voice hushed with occasional questions. Hakim had noticed the older man’s hand started to shake, though he tried his best to hide it. It was one of the prince’s nervous tendencies. 

The physician, Salim, wrote another note within the book he held in his hands. He turned from Jafar, his gaze lingering on Hakim. “You said that you and Jafar were training during a number of days this week, correct?”

He nodded. “Yes. For about an hour or so each day.”

Salim hummed, tapping the quill he used against the page's surface. He turned to the prince. “Jafar has a fever, that much I’m sure you can tell. His temperature is much higher than what it should normally be,” he explained, his tone soothing but very matter of fact. Something in it bothered Hakim, but he kept that to himself. “But with rest and an herbal remedy I can make, I think he should be fine. As long as his temperature doesn’t continue to climb.”

“Salim, he seemed fine yesterday,” Hamed replied, confusion in his voice, “How did this happen?”

“From what I gathered, I believe it was a few different factors. I think he’s been overworking himself, especially this week. I saw him a few times at night going back to what I assumed was his room, and he looked as if he was about to fall asleep on his feet.” Salim’s face was concerned, eyes lingering on Jafar before looking to Hakim. 

Hakim frowned, his shoulders tense. The look the physician was sending him wasn’t one he appreciated. 

“I also think that training in the heat may have allowed him to become more exhausted. The wheezing sound from his chest makes me believe there could be an infection,” he tapped on his book again, gaze moving back to the prince, “Which could have been a minor thing, but adding in the training and overworking, I believe it allowed his body to grow weak and result with this fever.”

Hakim bit the inside of his cheek, not allowing his stoic expression to break. The training? Jafar seemed perfectly fine when they were training. They took a number of breaks in the shade, trying to avoid the possibility of heat exhaustion. 

The image of Jafar bent over, his hands on his knees, trying to wave him off the other day popped in his mind. _ “I’m fine Hakim,” _ he had disputed, standing up fully. He had tugged off his shirt, wiping down his bare, sweaty chest with it, _ “Just...need a moment to catch my breath.” _

He could feel the heat on his cheeks as the image played in his mind, cursing himself. Now was not the right time for that. 

Salim and the prince continued to talk, their voices interrupting his thoughts. A list had been handed to the prince, Salim pointing out the items on it. “I will ground these together and make them into a tea that he can drink. It’ll be bitter, but it should help clear the illness. But he’ll need a cup at least every two or three hours.”

The prince nodded, frowning slightly at the news. “I won’t be able to stay, with the meetings and everything going on...”

The words left his mouth before he could think better of it. “I can stay with him, my prince.”

All eyes turned to him. The prince’s face softened, his eyes moving between him and his father. “Are you sure Hakim? I wouldn’t want to trouble you any further.”

He shook his head. “It would be no trouble, my prince. Jafar and I were supposed to train together today. I’m sure he would...prefer someone he knew well to stay with him,” he trailed off, catching his father’s eye. It was unreadable and Hakim fought the urge to look away. “Unless there was something else you needed for me today father?”

Nu’man stared at his son for a long moment, eyeing the faux determination set in his face. The same face came across his mind, younger, eyes full of tears, as he sat beside someone else’s sickbed. Hakim had grown much since then. His son stood before him now, trying to mask the worry that he knew lingered within him. 

He nodded. “There was nothing else. But you will have to make up for missing a day. We can discuss that later.”

Samil took him aside and showed him the list of items that would go into the tea that was needed. Jafar had a tea making set off to the side of the room. He would have to make the tea every few hours, it was important for the drink to be warm when Jafar would drink it. Samil explained it would help break up the infection in his chest and slowly bring his fever down. He followed every detail, watching the physician as closely as possible to not miss a step. 

“When he wakes up, he may act differently from what you normally see. Fevers tend to make a person incoherent, so he may not remember where he is or what is going on. The tea may also cause that to happen after the first or second time drinking it.” Samil explained with a hint of a smile, squeezing his shoulder. “But if his fever goes up or anything else happens, send that bird of his to me. Unless an emergency outside the palace happens, I will be within these walls.”

“Of course.” Hakim’s reply was short, bowing slightly, but his eyes lingered on Jafar. He hadn’t moved in the time the room had been occupied, aside from his rising and falling chest. It unnerved him. 

Salim left the room, Nu’man and the prince following closely behind him. The prince lingered at the door, his concerned gaze on the young man. They turned to him and he tried to put on a smile. “I will try to stop by if I find time in between the meetings…”

“Of course, my prince. I…” Hakim stopped himself. How could he comfort a man such as the prince? “I will watch out for him.”

A genuine smile spread on the other man’s lips, warmth in his eyes. His hand patted Hakim’s shoulder. “I know you will Hakim.”

He stood at the door and watched his father and the prince disappear before closing it. His hand tapped lightly on the wood, pushing down his worries, before walking to the side of the room. On the table where the tea set and medicine were, a bowl of cool water was also left. He put one of the clothes Salim had left behind in it and wrung it dry of the excess water. Folding it over a few times, Hakim turned and laid in on Jafar’s forehead. The cool press was, from his experience, supposed to bring some sort of comfort. 

It was all he could do. 

His eyes scanned the modestly sized room. Two massive bookshelves lined the back wall, the different colored spines of the books providing color to the space. His eyes scanned over them, fingers tracing over the material they were bound with. Some of them felt as if they were decades old. Hakim shook his head. Where did Jafar find these things? 

A desk sat off to the far corner of the room. The dark wood it was made from gave the impression that it was a gift from the prince. It wouldn’t surprise him. The prince had presented Jafar with a number of gifts, which he always tried to play off cooley. 

Like Jafar, the tabletop was organized down to the smallest detail. Daily reports on one side of the desk, the other organized with the different quills and ink he used to write letters. Hakim picked up one of the papers, quickly scanning over the words. It was in Jafar’s handwriting, which seemed to be a report regarding the last country he visited. Though the wording was slightly exaggerated, he could read between the lines. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle. Jafar’s way of insulting a country was more elaborate than his. But then again, Jafar worked with politicians. He couldn’t be too forthcoming with what he had to say. 

Other items decorated the room, some flowers that he assumed were from princess Sabira, paintings he had gathered from lands he visited. The daggers and sword they practiced with sat on top of draw set that sat off to the side of the alcove Iago was perched in. Everything was pristine. 

Something felt off, though Hakim couldn’t put his finger on it. 

A reflection caught his eye, looking back down at the desk. On it, the black stoned ring that Jafar usually wore sat. He’d never seen the other man take it off. He picked up the item, gently turning it over in his hand. It was a beautiful piece, the details on the band perfect. Simple curves and spirals, but they stood out. It made the item unique. 

That was it. Looking up, Hakim glanced around the room again. There was nothing personal. No family portrait, no heirlooms to display. The majority of the books were most likely not Jafar’s. Just a space to be lived in, as if he would be gone at any moment. 

Was that how he thought? His eyes found Jafar, who still hadn’t moved. His expression seemed more relaxed. It troubled him, the way the young man thought sometimes. From time to time, they had conversations about their lives. Jafar always made everything out to sound fine, going on about his day, but there was always something in his eyes that Hakim caught. Sadness. Fear. 

_ “Sometimes,” _ Jafar brought up one night as they sat upon the palace walls, _ “I dream about being on the streets again. It’s awful...I don’t know if I could go back.” _

Placing the ring back down, Hakim shook off the memory and grabbed one of the books from the shelves. That wouldn’t happen. It was a silly notion for even Jafar to dream about. But he wouldn’t let it happen.

“Food!”

An explosion of red feathers flew into him. Sputtering, Hakim backed into the shelf and cursed under his breath. He glared down at the macaw, which glared back at him. “Dammit! Iago…,” he growled, placing the book under his armpit. His other arm rose up, the red macaw landing on it. “I’ll feed you, you obnoxious bird….”

Finding the feed that Jafar had for his red companion, Hakim sat in the alcove, book on his lap, as Iago ate out of his cupped hands. The bird’s beak caught one or two of his fingers, a hiss escaping his gritted teeth. How Jafar dealt with this animal, he had no clue. The macaw paid him no mind, his tongue darting out to lick every last bit he could from his hands. It almost made him gag. 

Satisfied, Iago let out a squawk and spread his red wings, flapping them momentarily before taking off out the window. Hakim watched the bird soar through the air, vanishing into the glare of the sun. 

“If that’s what he lets you do…”

Hakim leaned back, kicking up his legs on the alcove and crossed them at his ankles. He would wait an hour or two before waking up Jafar for that tea. Until then, he’d take some time for himself. 

* * *

Whether it was luck or Jafar’s selection of books was fantastic, Hakim found himself engrossed in the book that he had picked. It described the northern lands beyond Agrabah, places where they never felt the warmth of the sun. They even had times at night when their skies would dance with different colors, like a show. It sounded extraordinary. What caught his attention the most were the animals that populated those areas. The descriptions painted the perfect image in his mind as to what they looked like and the habitat they lived it. Every turn of the page engrossed him more. 

It was only when Iago returned from his flight, announcing himself in the loudest way he could, that he noticed how much time had passed. 

Hakim crossed the room, lighting the small fire under the teapot to bring it to a boil. The herbs and mixture that Salim provided were sprinkled at the bottom of the glass. 

The groan behind him was faint, but enough to catch his attention. Hakim turned and watched Jafar’s eyes flutter open, if only slightly. He didn’t dare move, afraid to spook the sick man. He would wait for him to become more coherent. 

Slowly, Jafar’s eyes opened more. His head turned, first toward the alcove. Then, slowly, toward him. Their eyes met and Hakim could see, even from this distance, that they were clouded over. His skin was still flushed, his breath hitching after a moment. The dull gaze became more alert and he quickly sat up, his feet scrambling as he backed up toward the bed frame. 

Hakim frowned, confused. He looked behind him, seeing what could cause Jafar to react in such a way. Nothing. Turning back, he took a step toward the bed and the younger man backed up again, bumping into the bed frame. 

“Jafar?”

“Guard?” His voice was faint, slurring at the end. His hands, clutching the sheets desperately, shook. 

The whole situation confused him. But he nodded to Jafar’s question, which only seemed to frighten the young man more. 

“Bad. In trouble…?” He whispered to himself, his eyes wild. “Please don’t…”

_ “I’m surprised I can even talk to you.” _ Jafar had said while they broke from training one day. They leaned against the massive tree in the gardens, providing the shade they desperately needed. Hakim’s hands were behind his head and he had glanced over at him. _ “I can’t be that intimidating.” _

Jafar laughed, shaking his head._ “Of course not, don’t flatter yourself,” _ his expression fell slightly, a sadness in eyes, _ “I was always afraid of the palace guards when I was on the streets...some of them…” _ He stopped, pursing his lips. Thinking about his next words. _ “They weren’t...the best people.” _

Hakim’s heart stopped momentarily. Anger coursed through him, but he took a deep breath. Calmed himself. He couldn’t show that type of emotion around Jafar, not in the state he was in. He needed to gain his trust. He obviously wasn’t seeing him as to how he usually did. 

Holding up his hands, Hakim took a small step toward him. “I won’t hurt you…I swear.”

Fear was etched on his fevered face, eyes darting from him to other spots in the room. Hakim could hear the faint whistling of the teapot behind him. The medicine was ready, but how could he give it to Jafar in this state? He wouldn’t let him go near him. There was no way he would accept a glass from someone he thought would hurt him. There had to be something he could do to get him to trust him, at least for a short time. 

Red feathers caught the corner of his eye. Perfect. 

There were a few different ways to direct Iago. Jafar had shown them to him, in case Iago had trouble landing with a message that had to be flown ahead before they arrived back at the palace. Food was the easiest temptation. The macaw wouldn’t pass up a chance to eat. 

The other was a faint whistle, which Hakim did. The birds head perked up, staring at him for a moment as he motioned toward the bed. Jafar hadn’t caught it, his eyes still locked on him. 

Iago glided across the room with ease, landing next to his owner with a small cry. The creature drew Jafar’s attention, his eyes fixated on him. 

“Your bird, Iago,” Hakim explained, the wild eyes jumping back to him. “He only listens to two people. Only friends have that sort of trust.”

The young man’s brows furrowed, clouded eyes confused. His nose scrunched up slightly. Hakim couldn’t help but find it cute. “Friends…?” Jafar asked, the slur lingering in his voice. 

The macaw hopped onto his lap, startling Jafar. The bird's beak bumped into his master's hand, nipping lightly on his fingers. Like it was looking for his attention. Confused, he looked up at Hakim. 

“I think he wants you to pet him,” Hakim advised with a small smile, “He tends to like that.”

Gently, Jafar rubbed the top of Iago’s head, brushing back his ruffled feathers. The bird let out a few high chirps, seemingly pleased. A fevered, goofy smile crossed Jafar’s face and Hakim had to hold back a laugh. 

Turning away from the scene, he quickly blew out the fire blow the teapot. With care, the pot was extremely warm, he poured the water in the glass and stirred it thoroughly. He blew over the rim of it, attempting to cool it down. 

Looking at the drink, Hakim couldn’t help but frown. It looked awful, a dark green that had no appeal to it in any fashion. The smell didn’t do it any favors, he couldn’t help but cough when he took a whiff. If it was as bitter as it smelled...he pitied Jafar for having to suffer through it. 

There was another glass to the side and Hakim filled it with regular water. Something to help the medicine go easier. 

Carefully, Jafar still happily distracted by Iago, Hakim sat on the edge of the bed near him. He placed the water glass on the ground. “Jafar.” He tried to keep his voice soft, but still assertive.

Jafar looked up, tilting his head slightly. He didn’t seem too bothered by his presence anymore. It was a start.

“I have this drink here for you, it’s supposed to make you feel better.” He held it out cautiously, making it seem like an offer. “If you drink it, you can pet Iago a bit more.”

That idea seemed to light him up a bit. He took the warm glass form Hakim’s hands, their fingers brushing briefly. A small jolt went through Hakim, but he paid it no mind. There was nothing he could do about it now. 

Jafar stared at the drink for a moment, his eyelids drooping slightly, but took a small sip. His face flushed even more, forcing himself to swallow the disgusting tea. Jafar’s nose scrunched again as he took another sip. 

Hakim grabbed the other glass from the floor as Jafar started coughing. He grabbed the finished tea, offering him the water with a sheepish smile. “I know...it’s gross, believe me. But it’ll make you feel better,” he explained, switching the glasses, “The water will help.”

Downing the water, it looked as if Jafar was fighting to keep his eyes open. His head kept nodding before bringing himself back to some state of being awake. Hakim took the cloth and repeated his same steps before, convincing him to lay back down on the bed. With a lazy hum, Jafar agreed, settling back on the pillows. Iago had left his perch by his side and flew to the familiar alcove across the room. 

Jafar looked up at him as he stood next to his bed, pulling up some covers to fight back any possible chill. The small, goofy smile on his face. “What?” Hakim asked, pressing the cool cloth to Jafar’s forehead.

“You’re...a nice guard,” he mumbled. Hakim straightened out the cloth and was moving his hand away when Jafar lightly caught his wrist. Hakim looked at him, confused. But there wasn’t much to make from the dull eyes that were slowly closing. “Will you...stay?”

Taken aback for a moment, he nodded. His heart sped up for a moment. “Of course.”

Jafar hummed again. “Thank you.” His grip loosened, eyelids closing. Sleep took him again, the wheezing breaths the only noise in the room. 

Hakim sat on the edge of the bed and took his hand, squeezing it briefly. 

It wasn’t just that Jafar was one of his only friends in the palace. He had the other guards, but most of them weren’t his age. And if they were, they mostly seemed to be afraid of him. The concept of approaching him seemed foreign to them. It wasn’t like that with Jafar. 

At first, he had been shy. He was essentially the prince’s shadow for the first few months when he arrived at the palace. But he evolved beyond that. One day, out of the blue, he approached and reintroduced himself. Peppering him with questions regarding the layout of the palace and its surroundings, it almost made Hakim’s head spin. It didn’t bother him though. He was someone new to talk to. 

Soon, they began to hang around the palace together in their free time. Jafar had even asked him to train him, so he could defend himself if needed. The first few sessions were hard, the younger boy wasn’t used to holding that sort of weight, but he was determined. It was a trait that Hakim admired in him. Not everyone within the walls shared that same fire.

As they grew, Hakim couldn’t help but admire the young man he was becoming. Sitting together at nights, discussing their days, their conversations would go on for hours. Though Jafar was three years younger than him, he had a wealth of knowledge that Hakim couldn’t fathom. Jafar's nose was always stuck in a book, which he teased him about. But it provided him with an advantage that the other messengers and delegates within the palace didn’t have.

Other feelings developed though, throwing Hakim into a mess of confusion. When Jafar smiled, and it was so rare for him to genuinely smile, Hakim could feel his chest flutter. It was a foolish feeling. Simple things like a brush on the shoulder or his wrist being grabbed made his heart hammer in his chest. Jafar’s soft but fierce voice soothed him like no other. He didn’t understand where these feelings were coming from. He had tried to push them down at any chance he could.

But his imagination would run wild, especially when they sparred. Jafar occasionally beat him and would end up on top of him, that smug smile on his face. There were times when the idea of wrapping his arms around Jafar’s shoulders and crashing their mouths together became too much for him. 

Sitting next to him, holding his hand, Hakim could feel his heart pounding again. Jafar’s touch still lingered on his wrist. He tried to pay it no mind, Jafar was just sick. Acting out of character, like Salim said he would. Plus, he couldn’t let this...crush distract him from taking care of him. 

His thumb brushed over Jafar’s knuckles lightly. His face was peaceful, though the flush hadn’t lessened since he arrived. He hoped that it would be gone soon. It was a nice shade on his cheeks though. Like when they would spar and Jafar was on top of him, panting, and the-

Hakim shoved the thought from his mind, blushing deeply as he let go of Jafar’s hand. He stormed across the room, cursing himself and his mind for such thoughts. Grabbing his book from the alcove, he sat cross-legged on the ground. Shoving the book on his lap, he could feel the tips of his ears burning. 

Why did his heart continue to make him suffer like this? It wasn’t as if Jafar could share the same feelings. The idea of that alone was torture enough. 

* * *

The room had become unbearable. Hakim thought Jafar had been simply whining when he mentioned that air didn’t circulate well within it. Being in one of the towers, and right next to the water, he had assumed a nice breeze would flow through. 

If only he were so lucky. 

By the time the sun was high in the sky, signifying it was early afternoon, Hakim had enough. He removed his arm braces, golden chest plate, and red fabric he wore beneath it. His boots quickly joined them. Tugging on the collar of his shirt, he undid one of the top notches. Anything to give him some sort of relief.

The book he was reading sat next to him, his attention turned to Jafar’s daggers. They were dulled, which made him roll his eyes. He had told him to sharpen them the last time they sparred with them. There was a wet stone on the draw next to them and he sat on the floor, sharpening one of the three he had. 

Iago had flown off again, where to, Hakim had no clue. It surprised him how free Jafar seemed to let the bird be. He wondered if it would bother the younger man if the bird never returned. 

His eyes flickered up to the person in question. Nothing had changed over a few hours, an occasional cough here and there. The wheezing seemed better, though not completely gone. It did concern him how the flush in Jafar’s cheeks hadn’t left or changed. But the heat in the room wasn’t helping matters. Hakim felt flush, it wouldn’t surprise him if Jafar hadn’t changed due to that factor. 

He would have to wake him up soon though for that tea. 

Sliding the blade against the stone slowly, he couldn’t help but admire it. It was solid, worn, and the handle had a firm leather grip. A snakes head was on the bottom of the handle, which made him chuckle. Jafar had an affinity for those creatures. He spun it in his hand, lightly tracing his finger to the tip. It pricked his thumb, but it didn’t phase him. It meant he could move on to the next one.

“Hey…”

Hakim paused. Looking past the dagger, his gaze found Jafar sitting up in bed. The blanket that was over him was pooled at his lap, along with the wet cloth that was on his forehead. The dullness in his eyes was still there, face flushed, and...a smile on his face he couldn’t place. There was something off about it. 

Brushing it aside, Hakim sheathed the dagger and left it on the ground. “How are you feeling?” He asked as he pushed himself up, walking over to the bed. Jafar’s eyes followed up, flickering up and down. He frowned, unsure of what to make of that, and sat down on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight. 

His hand rested on Jafar’s forehead. He clicked his tongue, not liking the clammy feeling of it. “You’re still really hot…” He mumbled to himself, shaking his head. Maybe he should call for Salim. Being in a hot room may not help bring the fever down, there had to be someth-

“So are you…”

Hakim stilled, his eyes widening. He didn’t just hear that, did he?

Slowly taking his hand back, Jafar’s fevered eyes were trained on him. His expression was almost goofy, with this funny smile on his lips. He was far from coherent, Hakim could see that, but there was something in his eyes…

He shook his head, brushing it off. “Flattering. But you should sit back, I need to make that te-”

Before he knew it, Jafar was extremely close to him. Their noses almost brushed, his hands were on Hakim’s lap and he was leaning forward on his knees. The breath in Hakim’s throat hitched, moving back slightly at the movement. How was this happening right now?

Jafar, in whatever sort of state he was in, seemed very determined about it. His hand clenched the soft material of Hakim’s pants. “I really...like you, Hakim.” He murmured, a laugh escaping. It reminded him of when some of the other guards would get drunk. 

His heart hammered in his chest. This was not how he wanted this to go. Not when the young man was barely coherent to what he was saying. Biting his lip, Hakim laid a hand on Jafar’s shoulder. “You should...really rest,” he insisted, trying to keep his tone firm, “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

The other man didn’t budge at the added pressure on his shoulder. He continued to stare and Hakim had no idea what was going through his mind. 

What he was saying, it didn’t mean anything. Salim had advised him that Jafar would act like this with the combination of the fever and the medicine. Even if his heart yearned for it to be true, and he did. Being this close to him was testing him. But his mind knew that it wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. Jafar would never want him. 

The other man’s eyes bore into him, his hand grabbing at the front of his shirt. “Come on Hakim…” he whined, his expression almost pleading, “I’ve liked you...for a long time.”

Hakim’s face flushed, but he fought to keep his stern expression in place. His heart pounded in his ears. Jafar could be cruel at times, but this was almost too much. Even if he didn’t know what he was doing.

“Can I kiss you?”

The voice was like a whisper. Hakim didn’t budge and Jafar tried to move in. He could just let it happen, capture the other man’s mouth, push him down onto the bed and the-

Hakim’s hand covered Jafar’s mouth, stopping him. No. He wouldn’t let himself be played like this. He wouldn’t take advantage of someone clearly not thinking straight. 

“Jafar.” He hissed through his teeth. This needed to stop before anything else happened. Or, in his luck, anyone walked into the room. 

The brown clouded eyes watched him, brows furrowed. Hakim pushed him back lightly, Jafar sitting back on his knees. Moving his hand from Jafar’s mouth, it slide over and rested on the other man’s cheek. Jafar leaned into it, seemingly happy for the contact. 

“We can’t kiss…,” he paused, thinking of his next words. Did he really want to do this? It wasn’t like Jafar would remember when he was better right? It would be better that way. Hakim was sure the idea of them being together would make Jafar laugh. “We can’t kiss...until you’re better. So I have some medicine you need to take...to get better. Do you understand?”

The words seem to process through his head. After a moment, he nodded. Hakim sighed, happy to dodge one disaster. 

His thumb brushed the young man’s cheek before he pulled away, Jafar letting out a small whine. It took all his will power to get up from the bed and leave him sitting there. 

Throughout the process of making the tea, he could feel Jafar’s gaze on his back. Hakim fought back a curse. It was like a dream and a nightmare rolled into one. This was exactly what he wanted, but did Jafar really know what he was doing? It could be possible that maybe there were some feelings buried underneath all those emotional walls the other man had created. But he couldn’t be sure. Jafar could be devoid of such emotion at times, it made him incredibly hard to read. 

_ Stop fooling yourself into thinking it could happen. It won’t. _

A tired sigh left him, shoulders slumping. It wouldn’t matter. Jafar would get better, say that he didn’t remember anything, and they would move on. Their relationship always stuck in the same place. Was it a relationship when it was one-sided?

Liking someone was too complicated. 

Stirring the medicine into the tea, he grabbed the other glass and brought it back over to the bed. Jafar was leaning up against the bed frame, the blanket that covered him kicked down to his feet. Hakim held out the glass for him again, as he did hours ago. 

“It’s going to be a bit bitter, but it will help,” Hakim explained as Jafar carefully took the glass. “Once you’re finished with that, you can have this water to wash the taste away.”

The glass sat in Jafar’s lap, his hands cradling both sides. His eyes hadn’t left him. “I’m...sorry,” he mumbled, his eyes watering. Hakim wasn’t sure if that was a side effect of the fever. “I messed up.”

He stared at the young man, frowning. “What did you mess up?”

The silence was his reply. Jafar stared at him for a moment before jugging the tea, Hakim hissing at him. It would burn his throat!

The temperature didn’t seem to phase him. Jafar finished the drink, biting his lip to keep from coughing, and held his hand out for the water. When that glass was passed to him, he repeated the same action. 

For the next few minutes, Jafar just picked at his pants, not looking up at him. His breathing was raspy, though he wasn’t sure if that was from the hot tea he decided to jug down. There was a small sniffle and Jafar rubbed his eyes. Hakim stopped. Was he crying?

“Jafar…?” He whispered, leaning forward. 

Red rimmed eyes look up at him and his heart crumbled. Tear tracks stained his cheeks, his hand trying to rub them away. “I’m sorry...I thought…” he hiccuped, his words mumbled. “I messed up…”

A small panic set in his stomach. It rattled him to see his friend like this. Salim’s words repeated in his head, but he shoved them away. Out of character or not, Jafar was upset. Jafar never got upset or, at least, he never showed anyone he was upset. It was those walls that he built around him. 

With this fever, they were exposed. 

Sliding up the bed, Hakim sat on the edge next to Jafar. He squeezed his shoulder. “You didn’t mess anything up. Don’t say that.” 

Jafar shook his head, biting his lip. “You’ll go away.”

That took Hakim back. Leave him? “Jafar, why would I leave?” He asked, keeping his tone soft. “I’m not going to leave.”

Dull eyes stared back at him. As if a switch went off in his head. He wrung his hands together on his lap. “Everyone leaves.”

The pain laced in his words cut into Hakim. The lack of personal items in the room. The passing mention of parents from time to time that he quickly moved on from. Clinging to the prince like a shadow, even now in his older age. Jafar was desperate for affection. Clung to the idea of being with people. Yet, he kept his distance. Afraid. He saw it so clearly now, looking at the fevered young man next to him. 

Hakim understood that pain. His father, though he loved him, was cold. Which he understood and accepted. But it hurt when there was no comfort for him when his mother died. There was still someone there for him though. To watch out for, to care for.

Jafar didn’t have that. 

His hand moved from Jafar’s shoulder and grasped his neck carefully, turning his face towards his. “Not everyone. The prince won’t leave…” He paused, squeezing his neck lightly, “I won’t leave.”

It was true, to an extent. His loyalty was to the sultan and the royal family. It always would be. But he hoped that Jafar would be there as well. He was sure he would be. Where else would he go?

Jafar’s eyelids fluttered and Hakim knew the medicine was kicking in. Carefully, he shifted the semi-conscious man to lay back on the bed. His eyes were still cracked open, watching him get up from the bed. Hakim grabbed a chair from the desk and brought it back to the side of the bed. Sitting down, he looked down at Jafar with a small smile and squeezed his hand. “Rest. You’ll be better soon.”

Calm washed over his face, a watery smile on his lips before his eyes closed. His hand squeezed back, but it was faint. 

The thudding in his chest had calmed. Yet he still felt like a jumbled mess. He didn’t know what he could be to Jafar. A friend, of course. He yearned for more. But what right did he have to do so?

_ Can I kiss you? _

Emotions were complicated. They could bring such joy but also crush everything in their path. He was tired. But he would stay here until he was better. And he would be by Jafar’s side, as long as he wanted him to be.

It was all he could do. 

* * *

“Hakim?”

The young guard’s eyes snapped open, looking around and then up at the voice’s owner. When had he fallen asleep? It couldn’t have been more than a few moments. Yet he felt sluggish, his neck stiff. Had he fallen asleep in the chair?

  
Prince Hamed’s smile was warm, laughing lightly to himself. “Tired?” He asked, his tone playful. Hakim could feel his cheeks warm over. It was one thing to be caught dozing off. That happened from time to time during late nights around the palace. But to be caught by the prince? Embarrassment flooded over him. 

He quickly rose from the chair, going to offer it to the prince, when he realized his arm was bare. 

He was dressed down to his most basic uniform. In front of Prince Hamed. The cool ground against the pads of his feet reminded him he was also without his boots. It would be easier to dig himself into his own graze. What if his father heard about this? He could feel the heat of the blush on his neck move up to his cheeks.

Prince Hamed shook his head, sensing the young man’s mood. “You don’t need to get up Hakim,” he assured, moving toward the edge of the bed, “You’ve been here all day. Sit, please.”

Hand sliding over Jafar’s forehead, Hamed let out a small sigh. The fever broke, that much he could tell. “He feels much better,” a smile pulled on his lips, “still a bit warm...but much cooler than before.” Pulling his hand back, taking in Hakim’s appearance, he can’t help but raise a questionable eyebrow. “But that could just be from the room?”

Hakim shifted uncomfortably on his feet for a moment. “It is...a bit stuffy in here.”

Moving around him, Hamed pulled an extra chair Jafar had against the shelves toward the bed. He stopped it besides Hakim’s, sitting down and leaning back into it. “I’ve told Jafar that before, I’m happy to see someone agrees.” He chuckled, shrugging his shoulders, “But he said he didn’t seem to mind.”

Hakim held back a laugh at that. He could regal the prince with the number of times that Jafar had groaned about it. But he thought better of it. 

Hamed motioned his hand to him, gesturing to the chair. “Come sit. No need to stand just because I’m here.”

Hakim froze for a moment. He’d never been alone with the prince before. His father or Jafar, a conscious Jafar, were always by his side and usually the main focal point of the conversation. This was new territory. Being unsure was not a feeling he was used to. It wasn’t a feeling he liked. 

But it would be rude to refuse the prince. 

Nodding, Hakim moved by the prince and sat in his chair, posture rigid. Why was the prince staying? From the light he could see him the window, Hakim assumed that there were still meetings going on. 

“I can almost hear the wheels turning in your head,” Hamed interrupted. He had turned his body to look at Hakim, a warmth spreading across his face. “There’s a short break between meetings. I thought I would stop by.”

It made sense. The prince had even mentioned that he would try to. 

“Did you find something to occupy your time?” Hamed asked, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze flickered around the room, a small pang going through his chest. He had hoped Jafar would add a more personal touch to it. Not that it didn’t feel like Jafar. It just felt empty. 

“Yes, I uh...found a book on the shelves,” Hakim gestured to them, though felt slightly silly for it. Of course, the prince knew where the books were. “He has a lot. I found one about the northern kingdoms. It was….” he paused, trying to find the words. 

A grin graced the prince’s face. “Interesting? Odd?” He couldn’t help but laugh at the surprise on the young man’s face. “I’ve met a few people from those areas. It sounds beautiful, lush green almost all year round. Could you imagine it?” 

The idea did intrigue Hakim. No suffocating desert nights. The golden dunes replaced with, what the book had described, trees as tall as the sky. Seasons that come and go, bringing with them different temperaments that he had never experienced. It was different. Almost exciting. 

But he would never experience them. 

“It did sound beautiful,” Hakim replied, eyes lingering on the book across the room, “The animals too. The descriptions...I could almost picture what they look like, they were very detailed.”

“Jafar’s taste in books is,” Hamed’s face turned thoughtful, pursing his lips, “...a bit dry? But they are very informative.”

Beyond informative. The things they described made Hakim’s imagination run wild. He could picture the stone castles, bustling cities, the different types of fabrics that were described with enriching detail. Reading through the pages, he longed to see them. To go beyond the sands of the desert and see what else could be offered. 

It was only a fleeting feeling.

“Would you like to travel?”

Hakim jumped, staring up at the prince. When had he gotten so lost in his thoughts? “I’m sorry?”

“Travelling. Is that something you’re interested in?” Hamed pressed, tilting his head. Nu’man’s son was a mystery to him at times. He’d always been a quiet boy. Hamed could see his intense loyalty but found that he didn’t know much about the young man himself. Aside from the fact that he spent a lot of his free time with Jafar. Which he noted that Jafar seemed to enjoy that. He couldn’t mistake the brief happiness in his messenger’s eye when he saw the young guard. 

“Traveling...no, I mean. It would be wonderful of course,” Hakim stumbled through his sentence, trying to find the words. He wrung his hands together, shrugging slightly. “But I wouldn’t be able to, not with my duty.” 

The prince held out his hand, stopping him. He blinked, confused by the reaction. Prince Hamed was shaking his head, had he said something wrong? “But if you didn’t have to Hakim,” Hamed implored, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, “would that be something you would like to do?”

Hakim’s eyebrows pinched together. Didn’t have to? The idea had never crossed his mind. He was loyal to the sultan, to the kingdom, for as long as he had known. It was ingrained in him, taught by his father the day he arrived within the walls. 

“Have you ever thought of what you wanted, Hakim?”

There were many things he wanted. Making his father proud, protecting those he loved, keeping the kingdom safe from any sort of harm. Beyond those things, he wanted to explore. Learn new ways of life, see countries beyond their own kingdom. Bring them back to this land and teach the information he had gathered to help improve the guards. Anything to make their land safer. 

He’d want to see his mother, just one more time. Not when she was laying in their small home, sick beyond words. When she was lively, her smile full of warmth. Her arms wrapped around him in a hug that was nothing but a faint memory now. 

Jafar’s face flashed in his mind. He would want….

“I would...want to go to see my mother’s home country,” he conceded, voice soft. His father never spoke of that place. “I don’t know much about it...but it is somewhere that I would like to see.”

Hamed’s expression was unreadable. His features were calm, his eyes missing the amusement that lingered around the edges. Hakim sat back in his chair, tugging on one of his fingers. A nervous tick he thought he had grown out of. 

A sadness crossed the prince’s face, though the smile that spread over his lips was warm. “That is something I wish I had done as well...My mother would tell me stories of her home,” he paused, shaking his head. “It sounded like a lovely place. Simple.” 

Hamed’s eyes darted over to Jafar’s sleeping form. A question sat on the tip of his tongue. “Hakim...did it bother you...to sit with Jafar today?”

Hakim was taken aback. Looking over to the young man in question, he shot the prince a confused look. “Of course not, my prince.”

Hamed wanted to bite his tongue, knowing the question was foolish. “It’s just...with how your mother passed…,” he stopped himself, waving his hand, “I shouldn’t have thought it, forgive me.”

“My prince…” Hakim hesitated, gaze lingering on Jafar. He understood what the prince was asking. It had scared him when Jafar passed out in his arms. The brief memory of his mother’s flushed face had flashed in his mind. Fear gripped him. The idea of losing another person who he cared about to an illness he couldn’t stop. “I...thought it would be the right thing to do. To take care of my friend, even if it...brought up memories that hurt.”

Hamed watched him, an understanding in his eyes. It was an issue he knew all too well. Sabira teased him at times that it was why he was so overprotective. 

Watching the way Hakim looked at Jafar, Hamed couldn’t help but think there was something more going on. He couldn’t put his finger on it. There was the time they spent together, of course, but that didn’t alert him. It was how Jafar would look when Hakim walked into a room. A warmth coming over the usual cool brown eyes. A smile tugging at his lips. It was a feeling that lingered at the back of his mind. 

Those thoughts would be left for another day.

Hamed placed his hand gently on the young man’s arm, squeezing it. “You are a good friend Hakim,” Hamed smiled, his ton soft, “He is very lucky to have you.”

Warmth washed over Hakim. The prince was too kind. “He is a good friend to have.”

Hamed chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Some of the councilmen would beg to differ.” They didn’t hide their feelings well about his courier. There were many times he sent them running off with the glare he would send over the young man’s shoulder if he heard their whispers. They continued to talk behind his back about Jafar. It bothered him and angered him more when he thought of the source. His father never had kind words to say about the young man.

He brushed the thought aside. There was no use getting upset over, at least right now. 

“Did he sleep the entire time?” Hamed asked, tugging the blanket at the end of the bed. He would have to get new ones, Jafar was already outgrowing the ones gifted to him last year. 

Hakim froze. A loaded question. Jafar being inches away from him, his breath hot on his cheek, hand clenched in his shirt. The whine in his voice when he didn’t get his way, the tears in his eyes. Too much had happened if Hakim was being honest. 

“Mostly, my prince,” he kept his tone neutral, fighting off the heat he felt tingling on his skin, “I woke him up twice for Samil’s remedy. Otherwise…” he swallowed, clicking his tongue, “nothing happened.”

Hamed’s gaze bore into him. It was unsettling. As if the prince could see right through him. Fear struck him. What if the prince did know? How would he know? It didn’t seem possible. But the knowing look in his eyes sent a chill over Hakim. If the prince knew, his father knew, and if his father knew…

Hames stroked his chin for a moment before nodding, rising from the chair. “I’ll have the servants bring you up something to eat since you haven’t left the room all day.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to my pr-”

Holding up his hand, Hamed stopped Hakim’s words. “Hakim, please. Allow me to help you since you have been extremely helpful today.”

Hakim sunk back in his seat, conceding. The prince laughed, straightening out his robes. Hakim and Jafar were too predictable in their formalness. What young man denied the offering of free food? 

Stepping over to the bed, Hamed grasped Jafar’s hand. He squeezed it, running his thumb along the top. “Get better soon.” 

The prince nodded to Hakim, wishing him well, and gently closed the door behind him. A tired sigh left Hakim, sinking down in his chair more. As kind as the prince was, he still felt exhausted. He didn’t understand how Jafar was able to talk to him with such ease. 

Rising from his chair, Hakim crossed the room to the open window that faced the seaport of Agrabah. He leaned against its side, closing his eyes. The crashing waves brought him a sense of calm he desperately needed. 

* * *

Heavy. Aching. Every bone in his body felt tired. Like when he was back on the streets when he wasn’t fast enough to get away from the guards. They would find him, drag him kicking and screaming, and beat him. Leaving him in an alley or a deserted part of the city, forcing himself to claw his way home. Those nights still haunted him. Curled up, fighting back tears, only having himself to depend on. 

It was as if all the energy he had was taken from him, leaving him with a pounding headache and an extremely dry throat. What he would give for a simple sip of water, anything to relieve him from the pain. 

Attempting to open his eyes was frustrating. It took more energy than he thought. Slowly, they fluttered open. They felt as if they were burning. Everything was out of focus. There was no light to provide him any type of visual to understand where he was. 

The surface he was on was soft. It took him a moment to realize it was his own bed. A blanket was thrown over his bare chest, his feet peeking out at the bottom. His mind slowly put the pieces together. He was in his own bed, which meant he had to be in his own room. But why couldn’t he see anything?

Pushing himself up, Jafar groaned as he sat up. Shoulders slouched, his eyes gazed around the room. Things began to come into focus. Through the window, the only bit of light that filtered in came from what Jafar assumed was the moon. Which meant it was nighttime.

His eyebrows pinched together. How was it already nighttime? He had been up earlier in the morning and then…

Jafar froze, eyes landing on a figure across the room. It lay beneath the window alcove where Iago slept, the macaw resting in the cage that he created specifically for his feathered companion. He leaned over, squinting his eyes to try and get a better look. 

It was a person, that much was obvious. They lay on their back, something underneath their head. A cushion perhaps? Jafar was unsure. His eyes began to adjust to the darkness. The silhouette of the form seemed familiar. Yet there was nothing that stuck out.

The figure turned toward him, the small bit of light exposing them. His breath hitched, eyes widening at the face. 

Hakim. 

The morning, though foggy, came back to him. Waking up, opening the door, recognizing Hakim, falling forward and then...nothing else came to mind. A lingering presence of a hand over his mouth, perhaps, but he couldn’t remember anything beyond that. He frowned. He didn’t like not knowing what happened over the course of a day. It left him vulnerable. 

A light snore interrupted his thoughts. Jafar blinked, confused, before realizing the source. Hakim had rolled back onto his back, his chest rising and falling in a peaceful manner. The snore did make him smile. Another thing he could tease the older man about. 

_ Has he been here all day? _

Jafar shook his head at the thought. Hakim was a busy man. It would make no sense for him to stay by his side. He surely had better things to do than watch over him. He wasn’t worth Hakim’s time, especially when he was working with his father. 

Then why was he here, sleeping on his floor? His eyes found some of his discarded uniform a few feet away from him. If he was coming from his own room, why would he bring those things along? That didn’t make sense to him. 

Jafar bit his lip. It was childish, but a warmth developed in his chest. With all his uniform items here, it meant that Hakim had stayed with him all day. Watching over him. 

He wanted to get up and wake the other man up, ask him what had happened during the day. Offer him something that was more comfortable than the ground he slept on. There was so much he wanted to give him. But he stopped himself. Sitting up for so long was draining him. He could feel the heaviness returning to his eyes. 

He rubbed them, fighting to stay awake just a bit longer.

A smile tugged on his lips. Hakim had stayed with him. The idea alone made his stomach flip. It was foolish, perhaps, to have grown attached to the other man. But Hakim was one of the few people he trusted within the palace walls. They had trained together, Hakim always pushing him to improve in different ways. Showing him the best techniques to use, the proper footwork, anything to give him an advantage. His heart would jump in his throat when Hakim would stand behind him, their bodies so close, as he would guide Jafar’s arm into the proper position. 

The feelings he had grew more when they would talk. Hakim was very quiet. In particular when he was on duty. But when they would talk together at night, either out in the gardens or on one of the walls of the palace, he would bring a different insight that left Jafar enraptured. 

He didn’t know what to do. It was unclear to him if Hakim thought about him in the same manner. Jafar couldn’t risk ruining the relationship he had with him. It hurt, but he would rather stay a friend of Hakim then try to do something dumb and ruin it all. 

But it didn’t stop him from imagining what it would be like. 

He felt his cheeks heat up and leaned back, falling onto his pillow with a groan. 

Emotions were too complicated. He cursed himself for having them. 

* * *

“Do you hear that?”

Hakim opened his eyes, glancing over to the source of the voice. Jafar sat a few feet away from him, leaning back into the tree they found refuge under. His expression seemed almost giddy.

It had been a few weeks since he overcame his fever. He had been forced to stay in his bed for a few days, which annoyed the young man immensely. Hakim found it amusing, a small thing like that bothering him. He would go to visit him when he could escape his palace duties. Jafar would proceed to complain about being locked in his room but their conversations would flow into other matters. 

Conversations that never touch on what happened while he was sick. Jafar brushed off the question, saying that he didn’t remember too much. Only the fact that he had passed out and woke up sometime later. 

It was for the best. Hakim knew it was. The memory of it gnawed at him. His mind would escape back to it at times and wish that his friend remembered certain parts. 

Nothing had changed between the two of them. On the one hand, it was perfect. Jafar was grateful that he had stayed with him the whole day while he was sick. Laughed when Hakim told him Iago had ambushed him for his breakfast he never received. They discussed the book that he had read about the northern kingdoms. Jafar had been surprised that he found such an interest in the history of those lands. Hakim could talk to the younger man for hours if he was allowed to, enthralled with the way he could spin a story. 

On the other hand, sadness lingered in him when Jafar said he couldn’t remember. There was a small hope in his head, however foolish that he would remember the small promise he had made. His eyes would linger on his lips when Jafar wasn’t looking. Desperately as he tried, he couldn’t forget how close they were in those moments that seemed like years ago. 

It took everything in him to move past it.

“Do I hear what?” Hakim asked lazily, hands resting behind his head. 

Jafar looked down at him with a wicked smile, “Nothing. That’s the point.”

“You’re going to have to explain it to me.” 

The young man rolled his eyes. “The lack of a certain princess?”

  
Hakim’s brows furrowed before a smile cracked over his lips. He let out a small laugh, sitting up and shaking his head. “Are you still upset with the princess about the other day?” He couldn’t help but laugh more at the small pout on Jafar’s lips. “You are unbelievable.”

The other man sputtered, frowning at his friend’s reply. “You’re not the one she tripped!”

“Do we need to go to Samil to make sure you’re ok?” Hakim teased, pushing his arm playfully. The sight had been an amusing one, Jafar toppling over as the young princess stuck out her leg. She laughed, clapping her hands in delight and he couldn’t help but join. Jafar’s glare was seething, but he paid it no mind at the time. It was harmless fun. 

“In any case,” Jafar grumbled, crossing his arms, “The prince and his family are out until at least supper. Which means I finally have time to catch up on those reports…”

“Jafar, you are always reading reports.” Hakim injected. It was the only thing the younger man did when he was in his room. “Agrabah won’t burn down if you don’t read all of them.”

Jafar stood up with a huff, stuffing his daggers into his belt. He held out his hand for Hakim. He stared at it for a split second before grasping Jafar’s forearm. The younger man dragged him up, his grip tight. 

He was impressed by Jafar’s strength. It had grown immensely in the time they had trained together. His arm felt strong, Hakim’s hand lingering on it as they stood together. 

Jafar released him, a small flush on his neck. The ghost of his grip lingered on Hakim’s arm. He crossed them behind his back, trying to think nothing of it. 

“Was there anything you had to do for the rest of the day?” Jafar blurted out, not meeting his eye. Which was odd. 

He brushed it off. “Not until the prince and his family return. Night duty for me.” 

A frown pulled on Jafar’s lips. “Again?”

He nodded, walking with Jafar as they left the gardens. His father had put him on overnight duty since the fever incident. He wasn’t sure if it was some sort of punishment or anything else. It cut into the time that he spent with Jafar. Fear lingered in his mind at the thought at the idea of his father knowing his true feelings. But that seemed impossible. “The old men need to get their beauty sleep.”

Jafar chuckled. “Of course...but,” he paused, biting his lip briefly. “I’ve missed our conversations. It’s sad when I have only Iago to talk to about the daily comings and goings of the palace.”

“Your feathered friend doesn’t hold a lively conversation?” He replied cooley, desperate to look anywhere but his lips. Jafar had been biting them more recently and it drove him insane. He had no idea the effect he held on him. 

Snorting, Jafar rolled his eyes. “If two words at a time are lively to you.”

Climbing a set of stairs, Hakim realized that they were walking in the direction of Jafar’s room. He wasn’t sure as to why. He was letting the other man lead the way. Was there something that he needed in there?

Jafar seemed to sense his confusion. “I thought I would grab one of my books? Since you seem to think I only read reports.” His gaze lingered on him, a smirk on his lips. 

Hakim kept his expression calm, shrugging. “One that isn’t the history of some far off land?” He questioned, turning down another hallway. The air was stale going up to the tower. 

“Don’t push your luck.”

They walked down the long hall toward Jafar’s room. Jafar had begun to spin the ring on his hand, which Hakim frowned at. It was an action the young man did when he was nervous, which wasn’t often. It was why it stood out to him. What could he be nervous about? 

At the door, Jafar unlocked it and glanced back at him. There was an odd look in his eye. As if he was unsure about something. Hakim tilted his head, confused. It was a very uncommon expression for him. 

Turning toward him, Jafar stole quick glances down each hallway. Hakim was lost. He looked behind him and saw no one, just the light from the sun streaming into the hallway. There was something he was missing. He turned back, a question on his lips, but froze at Jafar’s face. It was flushed, not as much as when he was sick, but it still set off alarm bells in his head. 

“Are you alright Jafar?” He asked, stepping toward him with an outstretched hand.

Jafar stared at him, jaw tensing, eyes shining with a fire he hadn’t seen before. Before he could ask a question, Jafar grabbed his hand with a fierce grip. Hakim cried out in surprise as he was dragged into the room, stumbling over his feet at the abrupt movement. Jafar turned away, closing the door behind them. What on earth was he doing?

The room was as it was the last time he saw it. Iago was nowhere in sight but that didn’t surprise him. But it was secluded and he heard Jafar turn the heavy lock on the only exit. He felt his body tense up, eyes lingering on Jafar’s back. He had yet to turn around. 

“Jafar,” he muttered, his heart beating faster. “What’s going on?”

Underneath all the layers of clothing he wore, Hakim could picture the tension straining the muscles in Jafar’s back. His shoulders were set and they looked as if they shook slightly. He couldn’t tell if he was upset. Jafar was incredibly hard to read, which frustrated him immensely. Hakim watched his friend and waited. For what, he wasn’t sure. 

Jafar turned around and he was taken aback. His gaze was dark, with an intensity he hadn’t seen before, at least toward him. Hakim stood back, his feet set in their spot, and raised his eyebrow. It bothered him that he was lost in this situation. 

Was it something he had said? Had he teased him too much? Jafar had never reacted to one of their jokes like this. It left him extremely puzzled. 

Hakim’s brows furrowed, stepping toward him. “Jafar, what i-”

As if he charged across the room, Jafar entered his space and grasped his cheeks. Hakim held back a gasp, his eyes widening at the intimate feeling. They stood like that for a moment, Jafar’s breath coming out in short gasps. Like he was nervous. Hakim’s mind went back to those weeks ago, in this same space, that left him lost. 

His heart pounded in his ears. “Jafar…”

The calloused hands that held his cheeks pulled him forward and Jafar’s lips covered his. They were as soft as he dreamed and for a second he questioned if this was real. The feeling passed by quickly as he leaned in hungrily, his hands finding the other man’s hips, digging into the fabric of his clothing. Desperate to hold onto anything. His eyes shut as he tilted his head, melting into the warmth of his lips. 

Jafar’s hands slide into his hair, his fingers carding through the loose strands and he shivered at the feeling. It was beyond what he had dreamed of. His head almost felt dizzy. His hands tightened against Jafar’s hips, pulling their bodies together, and he fought off the moan that wanted to escape. 

Jafar pulled away slowly, his skin flushed, eyes dark and darting around his face. Hakim gazed at him, taking in lush lips that were just on his. His eyes met Jafar’s, who looked just as shocked as he felt. An airy laugh passed his lips. He wanted to pepper that faces with kisses, love him as no one else had. 

A smirk formed on Jafar’s lips, who was still trying to catch his breath. “You...said after I was better...right?”

The phrase shocked him back from the dizzy feeling. His hands pushed Jafar back slightly, eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “What did you say?”

Dark eyes widening, Jafar brought the hands from his hair to rest on his shoulders. Hakim could feel his muscles tense beneath his hands. “I...You said that, right? It wasn’t….” his voice was soft, laced with a hint of panic, “It wasn’t a dream?”

Hakim’s mouth felt dry. “I thought you said you didn’t remember anything?” He didn’t mean for his tone to sound as stern as it did. He cursed himself. This wasn’t a moment he could screw up.

“I thought I didn’t,” Jafar conceded, squeezing his shoulders, “It’s been slowly coming back to me...so technically...I was telling the truth.”

Hakim stared at him, making Jafar fidget under the strong gaze before he broke out into a low laugh. His forehead leaned against his, their noses bumping together. Jafar smiled, laughing lightly. It was a beautiful sound, a small comfort on his heart.

Shaking his head slightly, Hakim’s eyes flickered over Jafar’s face. Taking everything in. The flush of his cheeks brought a warm color to his skin that he adored. It made him look healthy, as opposed to a few weeks ago. His shining brown eyes were trained on him and he couldn’t help from kissing his cheek. 

A question crossed his mind. “Why wait?”

Jafar glanced away, a shyness crossing over his face. It was incredibly cute. “I...just wanted to make sure,” he breathed as he shook his head, “I didn’t want to ruin anything. I cou-”

He couldn’t take it. Jafar’s voice, the softness of his eyes, his body pressed to his. He had waited for so long, he wouldn’t waste another moment.

Wrapping his arms around Jafar’s waist, Hakim captured his lips desperately. A small gasp escaped Jafar but he covered it, melding his mouth into his. Jafar sank into him, his hands gripping the back of his palace uniform and digging into the fabric. He met the desperate lips with a fire of his own, pulling Hakim as close as their bodies would allow. The idea of Jafar’s hands roam across his body made him feel light-headed.

Tentatively, he pressed his tongue against Jafar’s lips and Jafar opened them immediately, signing into his mouth. Hakim felt lightheaded, the need at the pit of his stomach growing. His mind had gone completely blank. The warmth that grew over his body was consuming. 

Hakim’s lips slide from Jafar’s and he peppered his jaw with kisses. Jafar’s breaths came out in small gasps, attempting to calm his rampant heart. Hakim lightly kissed underneath his jaw and he couldn’t help but giggle, the other man raising an eyebrow.

“Your beard…” Jafar laughed again as Hakim repeated the same kiss. 

“My beard what?” He teased, resting his forehead on Jafar’s again. “I think it looks nice.”

“Did I say it didn’t?”

The moment was beyond what Hakim had ever imagined. The heat of their kiss lingered on his lips. He couldn’t help but take in every detail of Jafar’s face. The longing gaze was something he could get used to. He lightly pressed their lips together again, breathing him in. 

Pulling back, Hakim couldn’t help a small grin. “I hope I didn’t give you another fever...because I must say, your face is very red.”

Jafar’s nose scrunched up at Hakim’s laugh, lightly hitting his chest. “Shut up you brute…”

It would be a secret. No one could ever know about their feelings, the ramifications would be too great. But they could steal these desperate moments and make of them what they could. 

A small smile formed on his lips. For now, at this moment, he could be happy. 

**Author's Note:**

> While I was finishing this off, I was thinking of maybe doing a follow-up. But it would take place during the movie, that scene between the two of them after Hamed/The Sultan makes Hakim take Jafar to the dungeon. Maybe...we'll see what you guys think! I hope you enjoyed. This came out a lot longer then what I thought it would be. 
> 
> And I don't write kissing very often, so I feel like it sounds a bit clunky but hey what can you do. I'm all about that mutual pining.


End file.
